


To Be a Hero

by futuristicWolf



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Background Logic | Logan Sanders, Cussing, Gen, I'm Sorry, Minor Violence, Prince Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 10:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19439422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuristicWolf/pseuds/futuristicWolf
Summary: As life has taught many, nothing really goes as planned.  Sometimes you have to become the hero. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to. Sometimes you have to sneak into the castle of corrupt royalty in order to fix the mistakes that they made.





	To Be a Hero

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be rewriting this because I realized it doesn't make any sense without context

I sigh as I glance around the cobblestone room. Mahogany tables cradle the many swords, daggers, and scimitars; if it was sharp and pointy, it was lying with its brethren. Damn those royals. I’m kind of surprised that they lack the basic ability to childproof a throne room. What if there were children frolicking around, hm? What would they do if one of those tikes picked up a knife and ran with it? Nothing good, I can guarantee. Like, when did they change the tapestries? They don't match anything else in here, and...is that one just a picture of someone getting killed? 

I shake my head in frustration. That is the last thing I want on my mind. Focus, Virgil, focus. This is about the here and now, not the past. That’s over with. My hand hovers over my sword handle as the commotion outside of the room rumbles closer with each passing second.

Damn it! Those idiots were supposed to hold the guards off for longer. I quickly make my way to the far corner of the room, moving the tapestry aside to reveal a rusty, old door. I jab my tools into the lock and begin my picking. Each second that passes causes my heart to race even faster, and I swear if it beats any quicker, I’ll definitely die. As I hear the first notch click, the noise outside becomes deafening. They’re here. I look over my shoulder as the door begins to rattle, but my hands are so shaky that one of the picks breaks off in my unforgiving fist.

“Let us in, you thief!” Someone’s yelling from the hallway. I can hear the wood splintering, so I ready myself for the fight looming over my head. The door slams open, and the fight to truly begins.

You don't know true terror until you watch a group of royal guard members and your own teammates stream into a room while fighting to the death. The sound of clattering swords makes way for garbled shouts that echo through the room. Then something catches my attention. There, in his blinding white royal garb, stands the Prince. Nothing is out of place, not even the red sash lying across his chest. He downs his foe, looks up for another body to conquer, and glances in my direction.

“Virge?” Oh, God. I can’t stand that name. I can tell Roman is trying to make eye contact with me, but I just can’t do it. “Virgil! Why are you here? There’s a villain on the loose! You need to go before you get hurt. Run, I promise to have your back!” He spoke with such confidence.  
What a fool.

“Oh really?” I call out. I can’t help but fall into character and smirk at him, “Is that what they’re calling me these days? A villain. A pest. A monster, maybe?” I feel sick to my stomach as I watch a mixture of horror and shock spread across his princely features.

“What?! N-no,” It's funny, I haven’t heard him stutter in so long. “That’s not funny, Virgil. You really haven’t lost your sense of humor, old pal of mine,” his expression twitches rapidly between horrified amusement and plain-out fear. “I know you, Virgil. You’re a good guy.” My body feels off. It’s as if I’m not in control of it anymore, and I'm running on autopilot as it ruins everything I’ve ever worked for.

“Oh yeah, and how does it feel knowing you’re wrong? Ha, you've never been more wrong in your life, Princey. I’ve always been the bad guy,” I watch helplessly as a wad of spit lands on his pristine shoes. “Who did that? Wait, oh, oh no, that must of been me. I’m so sorry.” Sarcasm’s the only thing I have going for me at this point.

“Vee, please,” Oh God, I can’t handle this. I need this to end, now. I tug my sword out of its sheath, and our fight begins. Every hack of mine is returned by a slash of his. Our blows equally matched, I become desperate. I release my sword and prepare to fight dirty. I duck under his arcing blade, coming back up on the other side to throw a jab at his unsuspecting face. His features contort in pain, and he drops one hand from his sword to clutch his face. I take the opening and jab my knee into his stomach. I push him back with all my might until we reach the wall. He gapes up at me in shock. Then, I lost the upper hand.

Everything slows down. Pain. Burning hot, unbearable pain streaming through my veins. I stagger backward and grab a hold of the object sticking out of my chest. There sat the handle of a dagger. My childhood friend’s dagger. I look up and make eye-contact with Roman for the first time this night. “Why?” I whisper. 

“Oh, oh God. Virgil,” Roman’s whining out my name, but my attention span is failing. “Virgil!” I feel something beneath me. What’s going on? “Come on. Open your eyes!” I try, but it’s so difficult. They’re terrifyingly heavy as if they’re made of lead and bound with glue. I slowly force them to open. “There you go. There you go.” Roman’s face is less than a foot from mine, but it’s upside down? Or am I upside down? Wait, oh, I’m lying on the floor with something soft cushioning my head.

“What’s going on? Did I fall asleep? I need to stop helping you avoid your tutor, Logan's gonna be pissed.” I mumble.

“Oh, Virgil.”

“Why are you crying?” I go to wipe away one of the tears racing down his cheeks. Then the pain hits me. Everything races back to me, hitting me in a whirlwind of emotions. I stare up at the prince in horror and then glance down at my chest. Back and forth I look, yet I can’t help but fixate on the red stain spreading across my clothes. There’s so...much..

Roman’s kneeling above me. He’s crying and missing his royal sash. H-he looks so worried. “Don’t you dare fret,” he begins, “I’ll get the medic here. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Roman apologizes repeatedly as my head begins to pound in a malicious drumbeat. 

“Stop apologizing,” I growl, “This wasn’t your fault.”

“This wasn’t my fault?!” he sputtered, “Of course it’s my fault! I just stabbed you, yet you still refuse to blame me for anything!”

I let out a chuckle, “It wasn’t. It was all me.” I know I’m not going to make it much longer. Everything feels off, and my lungs feel heavy. I feel a cough coming.

“Vir-” I need to interrupt him. I need to explain this to him. If I don’t, nothing’s ever going to change.

“Bad things are happening,” Virgil stared up at the ceiling, “Real bad things.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You need to watch out. Don’t trust anyone. Don’t try and fix everything. You’ll just be disappointed.”

“Virgil, please. You must be delirious from blood loss,” Roman intertwined their fingers. “Just save your energy.” Roman attempted his best smile in hopes of comforting him.

“No!” Virgil struggled to sit up, “Listen to me, you dimwit! You need to-” his sentence was interrupted by a bout of coughing. “Roman,” he gasped.

Roman’s grip on his hand tightened as Virgil began to struggle to breathe. He guided Virgil back onto the floor and watched as the red dripping from Virgil’s mouth stained his sash. “Virgil, I’m just, I’m so confused.”

“You always were,” Virgil stared at Roman, “I didn’t want to be the bad guy, I swear. This was just the only way for things to change. I’m so, so sor-” his coughing didn’t stop this time. They wracked his body, and all Roman could do was watch. The Royal Guard stood on the sidelines and stared. A stifling silence enveloped the room, and Virgil’s lips gradually turned blue, his head jerking back in forth in search for air. The princely figure held the cooling hand against his chest as the drip, drip, drip from a stilled mouth continued to echo throughout the room.

“Hey, Virgil?” Roman called out to the retreating figure.

“Hmm?” a quiet hum answered him.

“Do you think you’re ever coming back?”

Laughter escaped the runaway’s lips as he clenched his fingers tight around the window sill. “Of course I will, Princey. I still have business to finish. And anyway, you need someone to take care of your sorry self. God knows you couldn’t run a kingdom without some help,” Virgil teased. He lifted a leg through the open window.

“...Will we still be friends?”

“Always.”

Sometimes you have to change your sense of morals. Sometimes you try your best, but it still never works out. Sometimes you’re the villain. At least, as life has taught the unlucky, nothing really goes as planned.


End file.
